


Bases Loaded

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Dating, Eating, Food, Kissing, M/M, OH STEVE, Pie, Pining, Public Sex, Steve's a gentleman, Text Messages, and the best boyfriend ever, blowjob, macaroni cheese, no dick pics from Captain America, once Steve feels the appropriate amount of time has passed, shameless fluff, shoulders, steve helping, steve's kisses taste like apple pie, then everything else, tony cooking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is distracted by Steve Rogers' shoulders - he stares at them every chance he gets. He even has Steve 'help him' in the workshop just to perv over him some more. Turns out, Steve totally doesn't mind. Then Steve takes him on a series of dates before letting Tony finally get to the good stuff. </p><p>TL:DR: Steve takes tony on four dates and they get to a different base on/after each one, ie:<br/>First date: first base<br/>Second date: second base<br/>Third date: third base<br/>Fourth date: sexy sexy times</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Base

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a prompt about Captain America's shoulder/waist ratio which then got away from me and became this series of adorable Steve-romancing-Tony dates. 
> 
> The biggest thanks to [Dunicha](http://dunicha.tumblr.com/) for helping me figure out what to do with this thing that fell out of my brain and for betaing :D

 

 _How is it possible for a man to be so wide?_ Tony thought to himself. 

 

And god those shoulders were perfect. A mile wide. Thick muscles cording up to that graceful neck with it's neatly trimmed hair at the nape. They spoke of strength, of protection, as though they were strong enough to weather anything, wide enough to hold up the _American Dream._

 

Tony must have zoned out, because suddenly the food processor lid popped ajar and splurted a little bit of icey tequila onto his arm, making him yelp in surprise. Steve turned, his ridiculously perfect face swiveling towards him, eyes still on the screen before turning too. "You alright, Tony?"

"Sure thing, Cap! Just making a mess. You ready for your first margarita?" He had already iced some glasses and had placed tiny cocktail ornaments in each one. Sure, Steve wouldn't feel it, but super soldier or no, it was a crime that he'd never had Mexico's finest cocktail.

 

Steve had turned back to the screen - they were watching Jurassic Park - and Tony tried not to be distracted again as he poured the drinks. But they were a work of _art_. 

"Do you need some help?" Came a pointed query from beside Steve, Natasha impatient for these drinks that had no right to be taking so long. Tony snapped out of it again. She was boring holes into him, disapproving, always able to read him like a book. 

 

"Coming right up!" Tony poured the drinks, _finally_ , and carried them over to the seating area. Thor was sound asleep, taking up one entire four-person couch, Natasha and Steve on another, Bruce on a third, with Tony's space next to him. He'd wanted to sit next to Steve, but from next to Bruce he had a marvelous vantage point to just take in _that body._

He was staring again, and everyone was staring at him standing there holding the drinks. It was fine, they'd probably just put it down to the three drinks they'd assume he'd already had this afternoon. Tony placed the tray on the coffee table and handed out the drinks. 

 

"The science in this is really kind of an insult to genetics." Bruce said as some tiny baby dinosaurs hatched on screen. 

" _Bruce_. Next you'll be telling Steve here that _Junior_ is implausible." Tony jibed, gently elbowing him. Steve looked confused. Natasha patted his arm and shook her head as if to say, _ignore them._ For all her bad-assery she was kind of a mother hen, Tony thought to himself as she snuggled up next to Steve and sipped her drink. 

 

Steve put an arm over the back of the couch to make room for her and Tony was once again distracted. What was he, eight feet across? Ten? Natasha looked comically tiny next to him, like an illustration of a human next to a blue whale. And then all that breadth filtering down to that tiny waist. How did he stand up? 

Tony thought back to some article he'd read in an elective college class (turns out Women's Studies isn't actually a great place to pick up chicks) about how if Barbie's body were real, all her internal organs would be in her chest cavity and she'd have to walk on all-fours. 

Wait. Eyes were on him. He'd drifted off _again_.

"What?" 

"The drink. It's good!" Steve was raising his half-empty glass and looking at Tony in that way he had, politely put-upon as if Tony were a hyperactive child. Maybe Steve was the mother hen.

 

"Oh right! Well, it's a classic. Like you!" _So smooth, Tony Stark._ He awkwardly turned back to the film. _Just. Stop staring at him_. On screen Laura Dern was rooting through a heap of Triceratops dung. Tony's eyes flitted back to Steve. He really had no right to go around wearing such tight shirts. Was he meant _not_ to stare? He tore his eyes back to the screen. 

 

 _Don't look, don't look, Tony._ But the bottom of Steve's shirt was slightly rucked up, exposing a sliver of skin. Tony licked his lips. _I bet he tastes like apple pie,_ he thought. _No! Like freedom. That doesn't even make sense._ He had to get out of here. 

 

He downed his drink and stood up too fast so he got slightly lightheaded. He sat back down again. "Tony, what's the matter with you?" Bruce asked. Tony stood up again, slower this time. "Nothing! Just, going to go... read for a while. On the roof." 

"You're the one who wanted to watch this movie!" Natasha protested. She'd wanted to watch _Das Boot_ , of all things. 

"Hey, this is an important part of pop culture that Capsicle here needs to see!" He gestured vaguely at Steve, trying not to look at him but still catching his gaze on a broad hand, splayed across the back of the couch. _Could probably hold a watermelon in each one,_ he thought. He looked around the room as if to challenge anyone to stop him from leaving. Finding no one forthcoming, he strode out of the room, leaving his empty glass on the counter.

 

-

 

A little while later, after the movie had ended, Steve appeared in his workshop. Tony had been trying to separate two pieces of the suit that he'd accidentally welded together, but gave up; he'd just have to make them again. He turned to Steve, standing in the doorway, practically as wide as the door frame. 

 

"What can I do for you, Steve?" Tony asked, laying the hacksaw he'd been holding to one side. 

"You said before that you wanted my help with something?"

Tony just stared blankly at him. He had? 

Steve looked apologetic, _the poor angel. Too adorable._ Tony had forgotten that he'd asked Steve to help him out in the workshop, mostly so he could just look at him, but ostensibly under the guise of helping the team. _Gosh Tony, you are incorrigible_ , he thought to himself.

"I can... come back later?" 

"No! I mean, _no_ , please. Come in." Tony gestured to a mostly empty table for Steve to sit on. There weren't a lot of chairs in here.

Steve sat down obediently and watched Tony fuss over moving things out of the way. Steve picked up a scrap of wire from the pile next to him and fiddled with it idly in those great big hands of his. Once Tony was done fussing, he stood back and looked at Steve, who looked back at him sheepishly.

"So... what did you... want me to do?"

"Oh right! Yes, I, uh... I need you to... well, see, you're _so strong_ , and me? I'm just a puny regular human, so it would be really great if you could help me with some of the modifications I've been making to the suit? I mean, physical lifting and holding things in place and what not? You'd be doing me a huge favour."

 

Tony was kind of amazed he'd just come up with that on the fly, and it would genuinely help him get things done quicker than trying to get his various robots to understand what he wanted. Tony was pleased to see that Steve was beaming at him.

"Oh Tony that would be great! I'd love to help you." 

That was easy.

 

"Alright! Thanks! Uh, well, ok so this here" he gestured to a part from the bottom of the torso of the suit. He generally called it 'the butt part'. "This needs to connect to this," he slapped his hand on what looked like just another lump of metal and wires. 

"Are they the thrusters?" 

Tony was impressed. "They... They are indeed, Cap. So, if you could hold onto those while I rivet them together?"

"Sure!" Steve jumped down and grabbed the heavy metal pieces, lifting them up like they weighed nothing. God he was strong. 

 

So they worked together for a few hours that evening, Steve holding and re-positioning things, Tony welding and riveting them. On occasion, Tony would have Steve hold some parts of the suit together so he could step back and stare at Steve from behind under the guise of 'getting a different perspective'. And perhaps Tony accidentally on purpose riveted something wrong and Steve would pull the pieces apart again and he could watch his arms bulge just so. And perhaps Tony stood a tiny bit closer than he needed to stand, and perhaps Steve caught on, but neither said anything.

 

Once the suit's modifications had been mostly finished, Tony handed Steve a rag to wipe off the grease he'd gotten on his hands. 

"This was great, Steve, thank you so much for helping."

"Oh it was my pleasure!" Steve said, "I'd love to help again, if you need me."

"I'll hold you to that." Tony said, pointing a ratchet at him and winking. _Ugh, winking? So uncool, Tony._

Steve smiled and went back upstairs. 

 

Tony did ask Steve to help again. More busy work, more secretly staring at Steve at every opportunity. One time he had Steve hold on to the arms of the suit so Tony could reach around his tiny waist to work on the hole for the arc reactor. Steve didn't point out how unhelpful his standing there must surely have been for Tony to work around. They did this for weeks, every time the work getting less and less important and their physical contact getting more and more obvious. 

 

Eventually, Steve came down to the shop when Tony was welding a hinge to one of the 'wingflap-things' (patent pending). Tony didn't realise he was there until two red-gloved hands appeared either side of him and held the metal in place. Steve's head suddenly appeared over his shoulder. Tony leaned in just a fraction, finishing the weld then carefully placing the equipment down to one side. Steve didn't move other than to take his hands off of the metal and then close them around Tony's waist. He kissed the back of Tony's neck. Tony's heart flipped. He turned his head to meet Steve's, opening his mouth like he was going to ask a question but being answered with Steve's lips on his. Tony tasted of coffee, Steve tasted like apple pie. 

 

"You actually _taste_ like apple pie?" Tony whispered as he broke away. He turned in Steve's arms to place his own around him. 

"Bruce made it" Steve said sheepishly before Tony stretched up to kiss him again. Steve kissed back so sweetly, his ginormous hands running up Tony's back. Tony leaned into them.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Captain America?" He mock-gasped, but so quietly that it wasn't really a joke.

 

It wasn't really a question either so Steve didn't answer it, instead glancing off to the side to take in the messy room. "Hmm, I wonder how you ever made all those Iron Man suits before I was around to fetch things from high shelves for you. It's a good job I've been around or how would you ever get anything done?" Steve grinned down at him.

Tony had the decency to look embarrassed. He ran his hands over Steve's chest and abs. Touching definitely won over looking. 

"Well, it’s your fault, if you insist on going around looking like this all the time. You're practically pornographic." He took the opportunity to squeeze Steve's man-chest. He'd wanted to do that for a long time. "Are we doing this then?"

Steve shrugged and looked hopeful. "I guess. If you want?" 

"Well obviously _I_ want. But why the sudden..." Tony gestured loosely to their current positions.

"I was coming down here anyway but then... Tony, do you have any idea how cute you are when you're working?"

Tony opened his mouth to protest. "I am not _cute_! I'm manly and terrifying!"

Steve chuckled and surged forward to kiss at Tony's neck, sucking lightly. Tony squeaked. "See, totally terrifying. See how scared you are right now?"

 

Steve grunted into his neck. The shoulders Tony had etched on his memory were right there in his eyeline, a broad expanse that took up most of his vision. He put his hands on Steve's waist, felt the taught planes of muscle under that infernal shirt. He curled a hand underneath the fabric, felt Steve's warm, smooth skin. 

 

Steve's hands worked their way under Tony's shirt, trailing up his back as Steve kissed him again. They pulled around to Tony's chest, brushing over the reactor. Tony's breath caught, breaking the kiss. 

"Can I see it?" 

Not one to deny a reasonable request, Tony acquiesced, pulling off his shirt in one swift move, wincing at his all-day-in-the-workshop smell.

Steve bit his lips as he leaned down to peer at it, giving Tony an even better look at his shoulders. So freaking WIDE. He just wanted to touch them, so he did. He worked a hand under the sleeve of Steve's shirt and then pulled at it again, Steve moving his mile-long arms up so Tony could pull it all the way off before returning to peer at Tony's chest. 

Suddenly, Steve was kissing around the reactor where Tony's skin was extra sensitive. Other people tended to be a bit put off by it but Steve seemed rather fascinated, maybe even turned on. 

 

Tony took the opportunity of the angle to take in even more of Steve's now bare shoulders, brushing his hands along them and just marvelling at how deliciously broad they were. Steve's arms came around Tony once more, this time lifting him up. Tony reflexively wrapped his legs around Steve and ducked his head, now currently _at least_ nine feet in the air. Steve leaned slightly back and shifted so Tony dropped down and was once again face to face with him. They kissed some more. Steve's kisses felt so pure and genuine, like there's nothing else in the world he'd rather be doing than kissing Tony Stark, covered in grime, in his workshop.

 

"How come?" 

"We watched Ghost."

" _Ghost_?! Oh... the pottery scene? Yikes."

"It was sexy." Steve looked abashed, glancing at Tony through his long eyelashes.

Tony couldn't believe this was actually happening. 

"You're something else, Steve Rogers."

"Hmm" Steve agreed, kissing Tony's cheek, still carrying Tony in his arms. 

 

"So, I'm obviously into this but I'm guessing you have some kind of plan beyond fucking like rabbits in my workshop?"

Steve frowned at the crude language. "Well, I came down to see if you'd come to the movies with me. I have tickets. I know you probably don't want to _date_ me and all but-"

"Hey! Maybe I want to date. I can date. You don't know."

"Or we could just keep kissing. I don't mind." Steve drew him into another long, deep kiss which he tried to follow as Steve broke away once more. 

"Whatever you want, so long as I get to look at you and you promise to kiss me over and over again."

Steve smiled. He sat Tony back down and leaned in to kiss him a final time before stepping away. "Then I want to take you out. But not to the movies. Meet me downstairs when you're ready.

"You, you can't just leave me like this! You're a monster!"

Steve grinned happily and left.

 

Not knowing what Steve had in mind, and not even sure if this was reality at all, Tony showered and changed into a not-too-showy suit. Was he really about to go on a _date_ with Steve Rogers? Had he really just been kissing the man not half an hour ago? Tony straightened his tie in the mirror and went to the lounge upstairs. Bruce was watching a nature documentary. There were three plates which had clearly had pie on at some point recently. "Whatever you put in that apple pie?" Tony swiped a finger across one and licked it. "Good work." Bruce looked confused but Tony was already in the elevator. 

 

Steve was already waiting by the elevator doors in the parking lot, idling on his motorbike holding a helmet. Oh.

"Uh, should I go change?" Tony asked. Steve was dressed in his old man clothes like usual, attractive as always but nothing like as showy as Tony's get up.

"No! No you look lovely." Steve reached a hand out and when Tony took it, he pulled him close to kiss him again.

"We could just take one of the cars. Or have Happy drive us?" 

Steve just shook his head and placed the helmet on Tony. "Get on."

Tony frowned but did as he was told.

"How come I have to wear a helmet and you don't?" 

"Because you're not a super soldier." He replied matter of factly before revving the engine and driving out into the warm night.

 

Tony was glad he hadn't argued further about the bike since this gave him ample opportunity to wrap his arms around him and breathe in the smell of leather and _Steve_. His entire vision was taken up by Steve’s shoulders. Tony leaned his head against Steve’s back, feeling his muscles moving slightly whenever they’d make a turn. They rode for about twenty minutes and were getting far from most of the places Tony would normally consider date-appropriate in New York. He leaned in and shouted over the sound of the rushing wind and the bike's engine. "Where are we _going_ , Steve?"

"It's a surprise!" Steve yelled back.

"Is it much further?" 

"We'll be there soon."

Tony rested his head back against Steve's back and closed his eyes. There were worse places to be.

 

They finally pulled up at a little mom ‘n’ pop type diner right out in the sticks. It was called Betsy's Diner and looked like one of those new places which tries to look old. Tony fought to not look disappointed. This didn't look like it was worth such a long drive. But maybe they made really amazing burgers or something.

 

Steve had seen the flicker of disappointment on Tony's face and rather than looking crestfallen, smiled knowingly. "Don't judge a book by it's cover, Tony." He held out a hand for Tony to take, which he graciously accepted with a flourish. 

 

They entered the tiny place, the door creaking on its hinges. Tony couldn't help but wonder if the place had passed the health code. Though it was clean enough, just worn. Maybe the place really was an original. It seemed deserted, no customers and not even anyone working there. 

"Stevie!" A voice said from behind the counter. Steve beamed. "Betsy! How are you?"

Tony peered over and there was an ancient looking lady back there with half a knitted sweater on her lap. She put the knitting down and got up, which in itself threatened to take minutes. Steve reached a hand over the counter to help her up. She was tiny.

"Oh, you know, the same as usual." She said, brightly, looking over to Tony with a smile. "And who's your friend?" 

"This is my good friend Tony. He's an inventor." Tony sheepishly took the tiny hand she offered. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am." What _was_ this?

 

"I have some meatloaf for _you_ , Stevie. But what would Tony like?" She peered at him over her glasses. Tony was lost. He couldn't ask this thousand year old person to cook for him. He looked to Steve, who was looking through the glass counter at an array of cakes and pies with wide, hungry eyes. 

"You look like a macaroni cheese kind of man to me." Betsy said, sagely. 

Tony turned to Steve in shock. "Did you...?" Steve shook his head and grinned. Tony _loved_ macaroni cheese. "She's got a gift, Tony, what can I say."

"Well, I'll take anything you've got, I don't want to be any trouble."

"Take a seat, I'll bring you some coffee." She shuffled off into the kitchen.

 

"What _is_ this?" Tony hissed once they were seated.

Steve grinned again. "I used to come here when I was a kid. I used to think Betsy was so cool. We went to school together. Her pop used to own this place. She makes the _best_ pie. Well, everything she makes is amazing."

"But she's like a million years old! You can't make her cook for us!" 

Two cup of coffee appeared on the table. "Well, ninety-one. A few years off of a million." Betsy said.

Tony was mortified. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean, I just, uh." 

They both laughed at him. "My grandson does most of the cooking now, I just decided to open late for Stevie here." She patted Steve on the arm. "He's a little older than me you see, you have to look out for your elders after all." They grinned at one another. Tony felt completely at sea.

 

"You're... younger than him." Tony hadn't really considered how old someone who was Steve's actual age would look. "I certainly am." She was holding some magazines under her arm which she now placed on the table. "Here you go. Your food's in the oven, you can read these while you wait." She shuffled off again.

 

Steve picked them up excitedly. They were old copies of LIFE magazine. Really old copies. 

"Betsy has a whole bunch of these old magazines, we used to read them together after school. She lets me borrow them so I can catch up on, well, it's all old news to you, but it's new to me." The top magazine had a picture of JFK on it. 

"Well, I won't spoil anything for you but it doesn't end well for this guy." Tony pointed at Kennedy's face. Steve rolled his eyes. "I'm not completely out of the loop, Coulson for one has been a real help catching me up to speed on the big things, but these," he tapped the magazines, "are perfect for filling me in on the little details."

"Well I'll be. You have the entire internet at your fingertips and I never even considered this."

Steve smoothed out a creased corner of the magazine. "Wikipedia and all are good for specific subjects," Tony had feigned interest more than once when Steve had rushed down to tell him about some world event or other after reading fifty pages of Wikipedia, "but these are... Well, they're more my speed."

 

Tony smiled. They _were_ more him. Even if he hadn't been wearing his old man clothes or had the neat hair, there was something inherently old fashioned about Steve, from the way he carried himself and spoke, to the way he treated other people. Watching him flick through a tattered old copy of LIFE, Tony felt like he had stepped into an old photograph.

 

Tony picked up another magazine. This was an old Home & Life magazine. He flicked through it, coming upon an advert for a vacuum cleaner from StarkWare - the short-lived home appliances arm of the Stark business empire. "Steve! Look! Hah, look at that thing." 

Steve smiled. "I actually had one of those. Well, my mom did." 

Tony rested his chin on his hand, propped on the table. "I kind of forget you grew up in a completely different world to the one I did. It's kind of amazing how well you've adjusted, I gotta say."

Steve half-smiled. "I miss a lot of things though. Little things. The old wrappers on candy bars, soda fountains, stop lights. Everything's the same but not quite. You know?"

Tony frowned. "Is there anything I can do at all? I tried to make your suite generic rather than pretend-40s, I didn't know what you'd like. And I figured you might have enough of the Star Spangled stuff from the uniform."

"No, it's fine. Bruce and Natasha have been talking about going antiques hunting sometime. But it's nice anyhow. I mean, I'm more used to canvas than a room really, so having an actual bed is a luxury in itself."

"I can set you up a tent room if you want! We can get those gross MRE things and everything!" 

Steve laughed gently. "That... is silly. Maybe we can go camping though?" Tony couldn't help the cringe that sprang across his face. Steve laughed harder. "No? Billionaire playboy Tony Stark isn't one for camping?" Tony tried to stop his involuntary cringe but gave up. Camping was just... not going to happen to Tony Stark.

 

"Here we are, macaroni cheese and meatloaf for two hungry boys." Betsy reappeared and placed the biggest plates of food Tony had ever seen (and he'd seen Thor eat) on the table, taking the magazines out of the way before placing some smaller bowls with mashed potatoes and beans down too. His own macaroni cheese looked and smelled incredible, and even though he wasn't the biggest fan, Steve's meatloaf looked just as good. Steve's face lit up. He looked like a little boy all of a sudden and Tony’s breath caught, though he’d deny it to anyone who noticed. 

 

"Can I get you anything else?" Despite the mountain of food that was in front of him, Steve looked up hopefully and bit his lip. "Betsy, what pies do you have that won't keep til tomorrow?" Betsy chuckled at him, obviously wise to whatever this ploy of Steve's was. 

"I'll go pack you up some things." She left with a wink.

 

Tony didn't know where to start. Steve was already tucking in, making almost sexual noises of pleasure. Tony couldn't help the tiny jolt of arousal that went through him, as wrong as that seemed in the company of Betsy. He picked up a forkful of food and tried it. It really was amazing. It tasted like some vague childhood memory of home, but a home that wasn't his with it's cold marble floors and distant adults. This tasted like a warm kitchen full of love and bustling family members jostling around the table. 

He realised he had his eyes closed. He opened them to Steve's blue eyes crinkling in happiness. "Good, right?" 

Tony swallowed and nodded. He wasn't expecting this when they pulled up here. Steve grinned and kept eating, adding, "Make sure you leave room for pie." between mouthfuls.

Pie?! Tony was already getting full and he'd barely made a dent. He ate and ate, enjoying the satisfying feeling of fullness that settled in his stomach. He didn't make time to eat usually, and when he did it was at some fancy New York eatery where food might be delicious but wasn't _this_. This was real food. Food that filled you up. 

 

"I've been trying to get you here for ages you know." Steve said after scraping the last of the mashed potato out of its bowl.

"Huh?!" Tony asked through a mouthful of macaroni. He swallowed before asking what that was meant to mean. Steve hadn't asked him out before. "What? You never asked me... you've never asked me anywhere before." 

Steve looked down at his empty plate. "I know, I just... wanted to. But I never found the words." 

Tony grinned. "You think _I'm_ cute? You are too adorable. And then _Ghost_ made you do it." 

Steve rolled his eyes. "Are you going to mock me about that forever?" 

"Hmm, yes." Tony decided, already planning anniversary viewings of the movie and wondering if he could install a potter’s wheel in the tower.

 

Steve was eyeing the plateful of macaroni that Tony was still chugging his way through, so Tony pushed it towards him. "Oh, no, it's ok! I'm full." 

Tony looked at Steve. "You're never full. C'mon I'm not gonna eat all this." Steve didn't need telling more than once, digging in and helping to polish the whole plate off. 

 

Once they were done, Betsy returned, taking their plates away and then bringing them each a generous slice of pie. Steve had what looked like cherry, Tony had apple. Again, how did she know? 

"As good as this looks, I'm about to ruin some expensive italian tailoring already. I don't know if I can manage a whole piece of pie."

"Just try it." Steve said, nudging the plate towards him. "And try mine too."

Steve took his fork and loaded it with a piece of Tony's pie, holding it out for Tony to eat. Tony looked at him. "Are we really doing this?" Steve just nodded. Tony rolled his eyes and leaned forward to take it. Of course it was delicious. So delicious. He closed his eyes and savoured it as Steve removed the fork. Tony's eyes shot open as he felt Steve press his lips gently to his. He let his eyes close again and allowed the sweet sensations wash over him. This was all too good.

 

Eventually, Steve pulled away, little peachy blushes either side of a huge smile. Tony swallowed. He was out of breath. "Steve, you are - something else." 

 

-

 

They arrived back at the tower late, after a final coffee. The drive back had at least allowed Tony's food to settle. Knowing Steve he would already be hungry again. Steve parked the bike while Tony dropped off six different pies in the kitchen with a note that at least one slice of each had to be left for him to try. 

 

For once, he was nervous. He had an entire book of plays, scenarios and lines that he'd usually be ruminating over at a time like this. His date was back at his, which would normally be step three or four, but this was Steve, who already lived here. This was Steve Rogers. You can't pretend to Captain America that you have a condition that causes your life to be shortened if you don't immediately have sex. Tony still couldn't get over the fact that had actually worked once. 

 

He didn't have much time to think before Steve was striding out of the elevator and lifting Tony up, marching him into his bedroom without a word. This was the Captain - all forceful energy and command. Tony was already half-hard just at being manhandled. 

 

He hadn't been on Steve's floor since before he moved in, and it had changed from the plain walls in neutral tones to much more of a home. Drawings and posters all but covered one wall of the living room, black and white photos cluttered the desk against another. There was the obligatory Stark Tower wall of windows, of course, which had pillows and cushions neatly placed beside it alongside a sketchbook and scattered pens and pencils. Tony barely took any of that in as he was being carried into the bedroom room at speed and then gently lowered onto the bed. He was still so stuffed from all that food, he wasn't even sure he'd be able to do anything more than lie there. But lie there he would. Steve could do whatever he wanted to Tony. Tony decided that right there and then. 

 

Steve leaned over him on all fours, Tony feeling miniscule beneath him. "Will you sleep in here?" 

Tony merely nodded in response. "Whatever you want, Apple Pie." 

Steve smiled. "Are you really full still?" 

Tony thought about denying it, but didn't want the first sexual experience between Mr Perfect Giant Shoulders and him to conclude with him puking everywhere. He nodded instead. 

"Good," Steve declared, getting off the bed and rifling through a drawer. He pulled out some clothes and shut the drawer with his hip. 

"What do you mean, 'good'?!" Tony protested. 

"I finally got you to eat something substantial. Now you can go to sleep and... we'll figure out the rest when you wake up." Steve smiled easily, like that was a totally reasonable plan. 

Tony huffed, half disappointed, half relieved. "You got me all worked up here! With your big stupid shoulders and your leather jacket and everything." He realised he was whining but didn’t care, he wanted Steve. He wanted him now, even if he did feel like he was about to split down the sides. 

 

Steve pursed his lips and undid Tony's belt. He pulled down his pants, resolutely ignoring the cock lolling turgidly on Tony's thigh. 

"Shh." Steve said, pulling off a sock and kissing Tony gently on the knee. He hooked a pair of grey pyjama pants around Tony's ankles and pulled them up, dressing him despite Tony being less than helpful.

 

Tony was half asleep, despite everything. That food had done a number on him. Steve was right, he really didn't eat much usually and he hadn't slept in at least 22 hours. And right here felt so safe and right already, this was macaroni-cheese-feeling. Steve had extricated one of Tony's arms from his jacket and had undone his shirt buttons. "Can you turn over?" He asked, pulling the rest off as Tony did so. He rubbed his hands gently over Tony's back and pressed a single kiss to the back of his neck. Tony turned back over to catch Steve’s mouth with his. 

 

Tony's thinly covered cock sprang to life, bouncing in his pants and he didn't even care. He'd long ago decided that no one should ever be mad at an erection: it just showed that you were glad of your company, but he was a little concerned that no-swearing Steve might be perturbed. But Steve glanced down, eyes sweeping over it just as they had the dessert counter at Betsy’s, before kissing Tony again and searching out his tongue with his. "I want you so badly, Tony." Steve whispered into his mouth, eyes darting to his. " _Steve_ ," was all Tony could say, meaning _yes please, right now, let's go_ but sounding more like _I'm really tired and full of food and want to go to sleep_. Steve was already leaning away, pulling one of Tony's shirts (how had that gotten in here?) up to slip over Tony's head. 

"Why are you putting clothes _on_ me?" Tony whined. 

"It's our first date!" Steve chided, causing a groan to fall out of Tony's mouth. 

 

"I should have known you'd be a prude."

"Oh really?" Steve replied, cocking his head. He stepped off the bed and ever so slowly, glancing back at Tony, stripped off his own clothes. He peeled them off, layer by layer, sliding his pants so slowly over that perfect butt of his, pulling off his stupidly tight tshirt and rubbing his hands over his own chest. Tony's mouth ran dry. He'd have said something but his brain was short-circuiting, what with all the blood in his body rushing elsewhere. Steve, now in nothing but his ever so modern-seeming boxer-briefs, crawled back towards Tony, briefly cupping him in the sleep pants he'd just wrestled onto him as he crawled up and laid next to Tony. He leaned on one elbow and loomed over Tony, shoulders outlined in the dim city lights, his face just barely illuminated by the dulled light of the arc reactor, covered as it was by a Van Halen tshirt. 

 

Tony made an abortive effort to grab at the elastic of Steve’s boxers, but Steve just laughed and kissed him again.

"No, really, I haven't even seen it yet." Tony grabbed again, getting the briefest touch of Steve’s cock, but Steve gently took his hand and just held it as if they were shaking hands. 

“Not on our first date, I have to romance you first.”

Tony didn’t know what to say to that. He was torn between the very real desire he had for Steve and the equally real feeling of exhaustion that was tugging at his eyelids. He moaned, hoping that might convey his spectrum of emotion. Steve smiled down at him and pushed him onto one side, fitting himself neatly behind Tony and wrapping an arm around his waist. 

"Go to sleep." Steve gently commanded, softly into Tony’s ear.

 

Tony was asleep in seconds.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Second Base - Steak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve get to second base!   
> Lots of cooking and Tony being adorable <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how this fic became so food-centric but it made me so hungry writing this. I'll probably end up with Steve fellating a hot dog at some point.

Tony was asleep, warm and safe and comfortable, and _relaxed_. Usually sleep was a fitful affair, something to be endured rather than enjoyed, but this soft grey morning, Tony rubbed his face into the warm pillow and smiled to himself. He lazily wrapped his fingers around the warm arm that was laid across him and drifted back into the dream he'd been having about clouds made of macaroni cheese. 

 

"Good morning." A voice behind him murmured softly. That arm tightened slightly - a man's arm. A man's voice for that matter. And... a man's dick? Pressing gently against the back of his thigh, like it was trying to be polite by not being too rigid but being slightly hard despite itself. 

 

The body shifted and lips nuzzled into Tony's neck, making soft, sleepy sounds of pleasure and ever so gently rutting against him. Tony was nonplussed. He wasn't naked and didn't appear to have had sex recently, judging by his own far less polite boner that was grumpily pushing at the front of his pants. But the place smelled like _home_ , and this all might just be a dream. If it was, it was certainly a good dream, so Tony relaxed and let sleep pull him back under so he could see what might happen next.

 

\--

 

Tony awoke properly when soft lips pressed against his forehead. He opened his eyes to the now bright morning light and of course it _hadn't_ been a dream. That was _Steve_ rutting against him, right here in this bed. More to the point, _Tony was in Steve's bed._ He didn't sleep over at the best of times; though now it came back to him, since they hadn't actually _done_ anything, perhaps this was more of some kind of superhero sleepover. 

 

Steve was still there, standing but bent down and hovering inches away from Tony's face, looking concerned now. Tony realised his face had probably shown his train of emotional responses and settled into an easy grin. "Good morning, Steve." Tony said, pouting his lips and awaiting a kiss. Steve gave it to him. At least that was won without a battle of wills. 

 

The previous evening washed back to him like a gentle wave. The workshop makeout, the motorbike ride, that diner. That _food._ That's what had done him in. That accursed food! And then Steve had been all 1940s about it and made Tony go to sleep. But he'd asked him to stay, so perhaps that was something. Or maybe just one of those odd things Steve thought was normal. He wasn't as bad as Thor for unusual faux pas, but he'd spent a hell of a lot of time in tents with other men. 

 

"What time is it?" There wasn't the usual digital alarm clock on the bedside table and Tony had no idea where his phone was. What was in that food? He felt more well-rested than he could remember feeling in a long time. It was unfamiliar and a little unnerving. 

 

"Time for breakfast. C'mon," Steve said, pulling the covers back and letting the colder air of the room rush over Tony's unready body. He whined. Of course Steve would be a morning person, getting him up at the crack of dawn to do calisthenics or something. Drink some concoction of raw eggs and grapefruit juice. Steve was already dressed, his hair perfect, if a little damp. Tony wondered if he had to shave or if the serum did away with that necessity. Had a sudden vision of Steve with a beard and wondered what he would look like with the same goatee as Tony.

 

He realised he'd zoned out - not a morning person - and Steve was looking at him with the same look he usually sported when Tony zoned out whilst staring at him in his workshop. A look that Tony had first read as irritation and impatience but had later realised was actually more like amusement and fondness. Or perhaps a mixture of all four.

 

"C'mon, it'll get cold." Steve said, holding out a hand that Tony begrudgingly took, getting hauled - albeit gently - onto his feet. The half-chub he'd woken up with was politely ignored and had mostly gone by the time Steve had frog-marched him into the bathroom. A fresh toothbrush had been laid out next to the sink, still in it's wrapping. Steve left him there and Tony just stared at it. It was red. The one laying on the other side of the sink was blue. He wondered why Steve didn't use the extremely high-tech one that had been provided to all the Avengers in their Welcome To Stark Tower hampers, but remembered that this was Steve Rogers from the 1940s and wondered no more. He didn't even have an alarm clock. His circadian rhythms were probably hardwired to wake him up at 6 am on the dot every day anyway.

 

Tony forewent the shower, but did pee and brush his teeth, the manual labour involved seeming incredibly archaic. He determined to brush them again when he had a shower on his own floor later just to be safe. Steve probably has super serum teeth as well, he thought to himself. 

 

Feeling a little more awake, Tony walked through the bedroom to the living room, half expecting to see Steve having brought an elaborate morning feast from the kitchens, or perhaps the aforementioned egg and grapefruit breakfast of supersoldiers, but was relieved to see the small dining table laid with a simple plate of bacon and fried eggs for each of them, a pot of coffee and a jug of orange juice and the appropriate cutlery and glassware. Steve, god bless him, _pulled out Tony's chair_. Tony sat down and Steve poured him some coffee. 

 

Tony looked at the plate in front of him, realising the eggs were sunny side down and cooked through, exactly how he liked them. Tony didn't know what to say. Even if he'd had his requisite 3 cups of coffee to wake up, he'd still be lost for words. Steve must have asked Jarvis how he likes his eggs. 

 

Steve sat opposite him and poured himself a glass of juice. He took a drink and wordlessly picked up the paper - of course Steve reads the paper - and folded it, kept on reading whatever article he'd been reading before Tony had come in, as though the two of them eating breakfast together was an everyday occurrence. 

 

Tony gulped down half a mug of coffee and got on with his breakfast. The bacon was excellent, the eggs perfect. He hadn't thought he was hungry - he never usually was - but wolfed it down. He noticed Steve watching him from over his newspaper when he swigged the last of his coffee before reaching for the pot and pouring some more. 

 

Tony decided to play along with the normal-morning-routine act, despite never really having had a routine beyond falling asleep in his workshop every few nights. "Any good news this morning, dear?" Tony asked, snapping a deliciously crispy piece of bacon in half before stacking the halves and eating both. Steve placed the paper down and slid his plate across the table before putting it on top of Tony's now empty one. Before Tony could say anything, Steve just shook his head. "I already had my first breakfast, so eat what you want. And as a matter of fact, yes, there is good news." Tony raised his eyebrows, ignored ‘first breakfast’ for the moment. “What is it?” Assuming the Fantastic Four had done something heroic or other, perhaps a missing dog had been found. Tony hadn’t read a physical newspaper in years, had no idea if they even printed any _good_ news.

 

"The Dodgers are coming back to town." Steve said, smiling. Tony vaguely remembered Steve forlornly recounting their move out of Brooklyn after a night of Wikipedia-reading and how conflicted he’d been about it. 

"I thought you hated them now. Since they left and all."

Steve shrugged. "Well, I'm not happy about that, but they're playing against the Yankees, and it’s the World Series so I figure it'll be fun anyhow. Will you come with me?" 

 

Tony hated baseball, but Steve's enthusiasm was too charming to refuse. And he could buy a box. Yeah, he could buy a box for Steve and he could go to every damn game he wanted to! The whole team could. Hell, it'd be a business expense. He grinned at the thought of getting Steve something both flashy and understated, since if he said it was for the team, Steve could hardly refuse, even if everyone knew it was really just for him. 

"Yeah?" Steve asked, hopeful that the grin was as good as a yes. 

"Absolutely." Tony said, happily munching away at what appeared to be the last piece of bacon. Had he really eaten all that? At this rate he would get fat, if Steve kept feeding him. 

 

"Well, the game’s not for a while. I'll try to get tickets." Steve said, picking up his paper and refolding it again to read another part of the outmoded old thing. 

"No!" Tony cried, too quickly to play off as anything other than embarrassing. "I'll get them. I'm the billionaire. They’ll probably all be sold out by now anyway." He shrugged like it was no big deal, even though he suddenly realised it kind of _was_ , actually. 

"No, Tony. You'll just buy all the seats in the stadium or something.” Steve laughed. “I want to _go to a game_. Splintery bleachers and all." Tony's face must have fallen, giving him away as it always did when it wasn't set on super snark mode. 

 

Steve’s grin faded, but there was a gently laugh in his voice as he spoke. "Oh Tony, I'm sorry. I was just kidding. You weren't, were you?"

Tony laughed and glugged his coffee, sloshing the tiniest bit down his thankfully dark shirt. "Nah just thought I could buy the team and bring them back to Brooklyn permanently or something, but nevermind!" He half-jokingly stuck his nose in the air as he got up from the table. "I have to go take a shower now. Thank you for breakfast, Steve." He said, more curtly than he'd really meant to but not willing to turn around and qualify it. He really did have things to do. 

 

"Are you mad at me?" Steve asked, and that was just peachy because Tony actually was, albeit irrationally, mad at Steve for being so damn _nice_. How could Tony ever compete? Even with all the money and his great big brain, Steve was _winning_ , dammit. He was winning and Tony didn’t stand a chance.

"No." Tony said, walking back into the bedroom to look for his suit. It was hung up, already in a dry cleaning bag in Steve's closet. Tony opened it and fished his phone out. It was already 10.45 am, he must have been asleep for at least 10 hours. He could have been working that whole time! There were plenty of things he had to work on, let alone all the company crap he was always putting off. Stupid hot Steve and his distractions. Eating _breakfast_! Good lord. 

 

Tony grabbed his suit off the hanger and draped it over his arm as he scrolled through 14 messages and half a dozen missed calls. He didn't even bother checking to see how many new emails he'd had since Steve had come down to the workshop to distract him last night. And to think, Tony hadn't even gotten his dick wet.

 

Steve hovered behind him, but since Tony said he wasn't mad at him, he couldn't do much other than stand aside when Tony swept past him into the elevator. 

 

"I'll see you later?" Steve asked, tentatively, his face looking all orphaned puppy-ish. Tony warmed the smallest amount. "Sure. You can draw me like one of your French girls." He said, the elevator doors closing as Steve started to deny even knowing any French girls.

 

Tony got back to his floor with bruised feelings, jerking off in the shower anyway, thinking of Steve's arm wrapped around him and his cock nudging his leg. Mad at Steve for making him feel like an asshole. 

 

After his shower, Tony felt less annoyed with Steve and more mad at himself. It was entirely unfair to be mean to Steve for wanting to take him on a low key date. He hated himself a little bit for being such a jerk and determined to make it up to Steve somehow, without spending a ton of money, either. That’d show him.

 

\--

 

“Plastic.” Tony said that evening, head popped around the edge of Steve’s door. Steve looked up, startled. So much for super-sensitive hearing. 

“Sorry?”

“The cheap seats are made of plastic now.” Tony said, moving into the room and standing by Steve’s drawing desk where he’d hastily closed his sketchbook. He didn’t like to show people his drawings and Tony didn’t feel as if he deserved to see them right now anyhow. 

Steve politely nodded and looked up at Tony with his wide, pretty eyes. Tony momentarily forgot what he’d come in for, staring at those ridiculous eyelashes of his. 

After an eon or two he came back to himself, shook his head and realised Steve was giving him that smile again. 

“So, I... am a huge jerk. Which you well know. And I’m sorry. I’ll sit on all the hard plastic seats you want me to. I’ll bring some splintery wood for us to sit on so you can feel right at home!” 

 

Steve blinked in his adorable way and smiled, a proper one this time, even if it still had a shade of ‘ _oh Tony’_ about it, but Tony would take it. 

“Thank you, Tony.” He said, reaching out to take Tony’s hands in his own, making him step right up to his knees. “I’m sorry if I made you feel bad. I know it’s no big deal to you, but I tend to like my extravagances... a little more low key, you know?” 

Tony did know, knew that Steve couldn’t help the inherent war-time frugality that was just a part of his design, just as Tony’s love-equals-spending-money mentality was inextricably a part of his own. He hoped Steve got that. Of course Steve got that, he was perfect.

 

“ _Well...”_ He drew out the word, feeling a little silly about his grand plan now. “I know you’re hungry because you always are,” Steve gently raised his eyebrows, “so I thought I would, uh... make you dinner.” Tony steeled himself for the inevitable disbelief that _Tony Stark_ would cook dinner, putting on his best that-is-totally-something-I always-do, what-of-it? face, but it didn’t come. Instead, Steve stood, crowding Tony but holding him in place, wrapping his arms round him with Tony’s hands still in his, and damn if that didn’t strike a submissive chord in him that he had no idea existed. And then Steve was kissing him, Tony just standing there, lost for words and lost for thoughts, too. When Steve drew back, Tony let out an embarrassing whimper before being turned around and pushed towards the door. 

 

“So what are we having?” Steve asked when they were walking up the stairs to Tony’s floor. He always preferred to take the stairs and Tony didn’t even make a snide comment about it, such was his determination to prove himself to be not-a-jerk for at least one night.

“Steak.” Tony replied, smug in the knowledge that it was one of Steve’s favourite things to eat, thanks to Jarvis and a quick flit through restaurant receipts. He’d gone - in person! - to a bonafide butchers and bought two extremely expensive pieces of kobe beef, though he didn’t plan on sharing their price with Steve. 

 

Tony wasn’t much of a cook. His usual culinary endeavours were limited to trying out different types of coffee and ordering food from a couple of different places at once. But how hard could it be to cook a steak? He’d had Jarvis cue up a bunch of instructional videos and he felt like he’d grasped it well enough. You just cook the damn things.

 

He’d already laid everything out, peeled and chopped potatoes ready to be boiled and mashed, the green beans he’d bought were already prepared but Steve didn’t need to know that either. The black pepper sauce (thank you, Jarvis) was from a packet but who knew how to make _sauces_? This would be great, just two guys eating a steak and maybe, if Tony played his cards just right, some awesome sex afterwards. 

 

“Would sir like an aperitif?” Tony asked when they reached the kitchen. The rest of the floors had a basic, small kitchen area, but Tony’s penthouse had a fully kitted out cooking space, despite him only ever having used it to make elaborate drinks or plate up takeout. 

Steve grinned, taken aback at the sight of Tony’s kitchen actually being used. “Uh, I guess, what are you having?” Tony had already decanted some wine into a rather expensive carafe, purely so Steve wouldn’t see the 60 year old label on it. “Oh just some red wine.” As if it hadn’t been bought at auction and since been stored at the wine cellar back at the mansion. “Want some?” Steve shrugged and nodded, accepted the huge glass he was handed and leaned back on the counter, sipping it. It made his lips look red and shiny, and Tony was momentarily distracted. 

 

“Do you need any help?” Steve asked, the look that Tony was beginning to think of as his ‘why are you staring at me’ look, playing upon his face. 

“Nope! I have it all under control.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter he was closest to, accidentally leaning on the knobs for the grill and jumping forward. It was impossible to even _try_ to be cool around Steve. He straightened himself out and tried to not look too embarrassed, turned to put the potatoes on to boil. Boiling potatoes - easy. He wanted to suggest that they retire to the couch while they waited but didn’t trust that without supervision, the kitchen wouldn’t set fire to itself or whatever it was that went wrong in kitchens. He didn’t want Jarvis embarrassing him with warnings that everything was getting ruined. He was torn. 

 

“Do you want to go sit? And I can cook?” 

Steve bit his lip. 

“Um, are you making mashed potatoes?” He asked. “Yeah?” Tony replied, suddenly completely unsure of what on earth he was doing. Steve leaned up and off the counter and came over to look in the pan Tony had just put on to boil. He took the pan off the heat and held it for a moment, looking into it. Tony looked between the pan and him. “What?” He said eventually. 

“Tony you need... to put water in here.” Steve said apologetically. Tony suddenly felt hot, knew he was blushing. Blushing! Of all things! 

“Well I don’t know!” He pouted, snatching the pan from Steve’s hand and shoving it under the tap. It hissed as the water hit the hot metal, and steam wafted into the air.

 

Steve was visibly holding in a laugh as Tony slammed the pan back on the heat. Tony glugged from his own glass of wine, resolutely _not_ looking at Steve. He was sulking. 

 

Steve put his wine down and came over, gently taking Tony’s glass and placing it to one side of the hob before wrapping his arms around him and just standing there with Tony’s face buried in his chest. Tony could feel the held-in chuckle and was simultaneously irritated that Steve was laughing and utterly charmed that he was holding it in.

 

They stood there for as long as it took for the potatoes to boil, and yes, Tony did know theoretically that to boil vegetables you needed water, he’d just not thought of it, ok? Once the sound of bubbling filled the room, Steve let go of Tony to turn down the gas. Tony frowned and pushed at his side. “I can do it, ok?” 

“I know. I’m sorry, do you want me to go wait in the other room?” 

Tony pouted again. “No. Just. Stay there and tell me if I’m doing something that’ll burn the tower down or poison us.” He pushed Steve back to his place, leaning on the counter, found his wine glass and pushed it into his hand. He took a deep breath and turned back to the hob.

 

He managed to cook the rest of the vegetables without mishap, mashing the potatoes and taking Steve’s suggestion to add some black pepper. The beans were simmering gently. All that was left to cook were the steaks. Tony had had bad steak before and didn’t want to mess it up. Suspicious of anything even slightly raw, he tended to like his own steaks just this side of cooked through, but from Jarvis’s spying, he knew that Steve liked his quite rare. He took a deep breath and hesitated over the heated pan.

 

“Tony, would you like me to do it?” Steve said softly from directly behind him. Tony sighed and deflated a little.

“ _Yes_.” He made to turn around and hand over to him, but Steve slid his hands around his waist and held him there as he looked over Tony’s shoulder.

“You know, if this thing goes up in flames, I’m not fire retardant.” Tony said, griping at being used as a human pinafore. Steve kissed his hair as he pushed the steak down into the pan with the spatula he gently prised from Tony’s fingers.

 

“Take the beans off.” He said, and Tony did as he was told. Steve left the steak to wrap his arms around Tony to walk him to the sink to drain the water off of the beans, Tony pouring them into a colander and Steve running cold water over them to keep them green and fresh. _Of course Steve knows how to cook. He’s so perfect and I’m just a dumb rich genius_ , thought Tony.

 

They scooched back to the hob and Steve turned the steak over, pressing it down again. Tony just stood there and watched those big, beautiful hands working away, giving the mashed potatoes a quick stir before adding the other steak to the pan. It was certainly a nice place to be, Steve pressed against his back. He wished he had a better view and decided that since he was fairly redundant as a kitchen aid, he might as well turn around and let Steve cook whilst Tony wrapped around him instead. But as he tried to turn, Steve pressed into him, trapping him between the hob and himself. A shiver ran through Tony at the restriction and he pressed back, getting crushed a little bit more before Steve leant down his head to gently bite Tony’s neck. Tony tipped his head so Steve could get better access and moaned when he dragged his teeth up his neck to nip at Tony’s earlobe. 

 

“Jesus Christ. You better let me at least blow you after this.” Tony breathlessly said when Steve drew back. He moved his arm and Tony got out, plucking two plates from the plate warmer that he’d removed the tag from earlier that day. If it was anyone other than Steve, he’d have told Jarvis to turn off everything in the kitchen and chased Steve into the bedroom, god knows he was as hard as Mjolnir, but he knew there was no way Steve would let two perfectly good - and perfectly cooked - steaks go to waste. So he let him get on with it. Steve could be a stubborn asshole when he wanted to be and Tony didn’t want to hang out with _that guy_ tonight.

 

They plated the food, and went to eat in the living room, sitting at the table like proper grown ups. Tony had even lit candles to make it romantic. Steve devoured his food and began on the remains of Tony’s meal, who was still full from the breakfast that was at least 2000 calories more than his usual morning coffee. “This is good,” Steve said between mouthfuls, grinning. And it was. It was really quite good. Even if Steve had done most of the heavy lifting, Tony felt oddly proud of himself. He liked seeing Steve eating something he’d given him. It was almost primal. Tony started to understand Steve’s interest in making him eat all that food the night before.

 

Tony kicked his shoes off to brush his foot along Steve’s calf, finding the edge of his trousers and brushing underneath them with his toes. Steve looked up with a mouthful of potatoes and eyed Tony, then swallowed and licked his lips as Tony slid his foot higher, up and along the inside of Steve’s thigh. Tony maintained an innocent look, inspecting the bottom of his wineglass as he slid his foot further still, inching closer to Steve’s crotch. Suddenly, Tony’s foot was caught and squeezed by one of Steve’s massive hands, and then held on to. And Steve kept eating, spearing the last bite of steak and dipping it in peppercorn sauce as he started rubbing Tony’s foot.

 

Perhaps Steve had been a masseuse in a past life, or some kind of witch doctor, because what he was doing to his foot made Tony practically melt into the chair he was sitting on. He pressed into Tony’s arch with a thumb, rubbed circles into the ball of his foot, flexed it this way and that. All thought of trying to fluster Steve by playing footsie under the table was forgotten as Tony let out a moan.

“How are you. What. How. _How_?” Tony had never realised before that his body could be controlled solely via his right foot, but apparently it could, and Steve was making him get an erection just by squeezing his big toe. 

Steve grinned and let go, letting Tony’s foot fall back where it had been, between Steve’s legs. Before he could do anything more, Steve closed his legs and trapped Tony there before pushing the plate back to him.

 

“Eat your potatoes. Or else you don’t get any dessert.”

“But I didn’t make - _oh!_ ”

Steve winked and waited the few seconds it took for Tony to wolf down the last of the potatoes and declare, “done!”

 

Tony couldn’t get up til Steve released him, so had to sit still until Steve had stacked their plates together. “We can just leave them,” Tony began, cut off with a stern look from Steve. He rolled his eyes and followed him into the kitchen once his leg was free.

 

“So, you liked it?” Tony asked as Steve placed things in the sink and ran water to wash up, despite there being a perfectly good dishwasher somewhere in one of the cupboards. He added a little soap and it began to froth. Steve scooped a little dab of the bubbles with a finger which he turned to deposit on Tony’s nose. “Yes. It was delicious. And I appreciate the gesture. It was very sweet of you to do something so far out of your comfort zone for me.” 

Tony scrunched his nose and waved the bubbles away, watching them float slowly down to the floor. “Yeah? Good.” Tony was happy. Steve had his shirt sleeves rolled up now and looked all the more delicious for it as he set about washing up.

 

“So about that dessert...” Tony said as he sidled up behind Steve, pressing himself against his back.

“Hmm?” Steve turned his head but kept his eyes on the sink, as if he’d not heard. 

“Steeeeve. C’mon!” Tony whined, tugging at the back of Steve’s waistband. 

“C’mon, what?” Steve asked as he placed the last of the dishes in the rack and turned, keeping his wet hands away from Tony. Tony found a towel and gave it to him, watched as Steve dried off his hands and placed the towel on a hook that Tony had never noticed before. 

“Well, _I_ thought when you mentioned dessert you meant _sex_. Which is the best kind of dessert, by the way. But now I’m beginning to think you meant actual dessert and holding hands until we’re 90 years old.”

Steve smiled. “There is left over pie from yesterday.” 

Tony groaned. “You. Are a goddamn cocktease Steve Rogers.”

Steve laughed at that and crowded into Tony, putting his hands on Tony’s arms and leaning down to kiss him. 

 

“Tony. We kissed for the first time yesterday. Relax a little! Where’s the hurry?”

“The hurry? The hurry is... the fact that you’re so hot! And I wanna see your junk! And I swear I’m gonna explode if you don’t let me touch your butt sometime soon!” 

Steve still had his hands on Tony’s arms and was laughing. “You can see my _junk_ soon enough, Tony. And I want to see yours too.” Tony looked up at him with hope but Steve continued. “But this is our second date! You really want to rush everything and miss out on nice nights like this?” 

 

Tony was frustrated. Yes, this had been a nice evening, he had to concede that. But he really, _really_ wanted to have sex with Captain America. He didn’t do this, he didn’t _date_ , he didn’t _cook_ for people. He didn’t know what to do. 

 

“Well. Can you at least give me a time frame?” 

“When it feels right.”

“It feels right now!” 

“Tony!” 

 

Tony sighed. “Well, can we make out on the couch at least? Is that allowed?” 

Steve pretended to think about it. “Hmm, yes.” He said.

 

They easily fell into a comfortable position on the couch and made out like teenagers. Tony writhing around on top of Steve trying to offer promises of what would happen if Steve relented and let them ‘go all the way’. Eventually Steve rolled them over so he was atop Tony, blotting out the lights of the room with his broad shoulders bearing down over him. His kisses grew a little rougher then, and a knee appeared at Tony’s crotch which he promptly rubbed up against. He’d been in varying states of hardness since the foot rub - had to get Steve to do that again some time, too - and now he was fully hard. Steve opened Tony’s shirt further so he could suck little red welts into his neck and Tony didn’t even mind. This all felt like he was a teenager again, making out on the couch in Suzie Whitman’s basement and being scared she’d freak out that he had a boner. 

 

But Steve wasn’t freaked out. When he pressed himself flat against Tony again, side by side now so Tony’s back was pressed into the corner of the couch, Tony felt the distinct shape of a cock pressing against his leg and was pleased that at the very least, the rumours weren’t true and Steve definitely _did_ have a penis. He let out a little gasp once Steve started to rut against him and remembered the morning, when he’d woken up when it was barely light and Steve had been there just like this, kissing into Tony’s neck and moving gently against him.

 

Tony almost whined, started to complain about Steve unfairly teasing him and how it actually made perfect logical sense to just _do sex_ right then and there and get it over with, but before he could, Steve’s hand was pulling Tony’s down to his crotch and licking the moans right out of his mouth. Steve palmed over Tony’s cock too, his hand warm even between their two bodies. Tony broke away from the kiss to ask, “Can I?” while his fingers were ghosting over Steve’s zipper. He nodded urgently, and Tony was pleased to see Steve finally looking a little bit ruffled as he reached in and got his hands on that velvet skin. Steve’s hand was on Tony’s cock, too, and he pulled it gently out of his pants. Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything this chastely sexual. Normally, his sexual encounters were quick, fast and hot, and great, of course, but this was something else. Steve began to pump Tony’s cock expertly, somehow knowing exactly what felt right. Tony tried to do the same but his rhythm was thrown off by just how well Steve was jerking him off. 

 

Tony still hadn’t properly seen it, Steve’s body and their clothes treacherously obscuring Steve’s dick from his view. He tried to shuffle down and, god, he didn’t even know why he was so obsessed with it now, but he wanted to suck Steve’s dick like there was no tomorrow. But Steve was too quick, catching him and holding him where he was with one arm as he kept on at his dick with the other hand. “Next time.” Steve whispered into Tony’s neck, which just about made him come all on it’s own. Tony tried to reach at least one hand down to keep up his own end of this confusing deal, but Steve shifted so he could grasp his own cock alongside Tony’s and jerk them both off together. 

 

It was too much, so Tony just relaxed and let it happen, stopped trying to help since Steve really did seem to have it all under control and was awfully good with that hand of his. The solid length of Steve’s cock pressed against his own was warm, and it was _Steve’s_ cock! Steve Roger’s penis, hard with lust for _Tony Stark._ He kissed Steve hard, gasping into his mouth as his breaths became ragged and he knew he was about to come. Steve did nothing more than go faster, coming with a shout when Tony grazed his teeth over his chin. He wasn’t far behind, the thought that the slick on his cock was Steve’s cum finally pushing him over the edge and making him come with a cry of Steve’s name. 

 

They lay there for a moment, neither wanting to move for fear of the sticky mess between them that had most likely ruined two good pairs of trousers, and Tony clinging on because whatever that was had somehow been more satisfying than even the best blowjob he’d ever had. Steve must be magic, Tony thought. Had to be. No other explanation.

 

Too soon, Steve was pulling away and pulling Tony with him. Tony resisted, feeling like he was suddenly far too heavy to ever move again, but Steve managed to pull him up anyway, being a supersoldier and all. By the time Tony could re-focus his eyes, Steve’s cock was tucked away once more and he gave up hope of ever seeing the thing. It was his white whale.

 

Steve shuffled him into the bathroom and stripped his trousers off him before taking his own and dumping them both in the bath. “What are you doing?” Tony asked once he’d stopped staring at Steve’s ass. 

“Don’t want them to stain.” Steve said, like this was the most normal thing in the world. Tony laughed. “What?” Asked Steve, looking up from where he was running water into the bathtub. 

“Nothing, sweet cheeks. Are you going to come to bed?” 

“Sure, in a minute. Do you mind if I stay over?” 

“You can stay over as much as you like. All the time.” Tony slapped Steve’s ass as he walked out of the room.

 

Tony cleaned up in the smaller ensuite bathroom and brushed his teeth. He searched through cupboards to find another toothbrush for Steve to use, but Steve walked in already brushing his teeth. Tony was baffled. “Where did you? How? Wait. Did you bring that with you when you came up?” Steve smirked and shrugged. “Maybe?” 

 

“Steven Rogers. You are... I don’t even know what you are.”

Steve grinned through the foam and leant over to spit in the sink. “So are you.” He said as he nudged Tony out of the way to run the tap and rinse his mouth out. 

 

Tony watched him dry off his face and run a hand through his hair. Stayed standing there even once Steve kissed him on the cheek and walked back into the bedroom. “C’mon, Tony, it’s time for bed.” Tony rinsed his mouth out and looked at himself in the mirror. The hickeys on his neck looked juvenile and ridiculous and he touched each one gently with a look of dorky excitement on his face. Whatever this was, Steve was calling the shots, and Tony surprised himself with just how ok with that he was. He dried off and went to bed, determined to just go to sleep and not try anything beyond perhaps a few ‘accidental’ butt-touches. Unless Steve had other ideas, of course. 

 


	3. Third Base

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony goes on a business trip, then Steve takes him to Brooklyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took me months to update! No idea when the next chapter is likely to be done either but it will one day!

It was a week before they really saw one another properly, what with a whole bunch of business meetings in various cities around the country for Tony and some SHIELD things for Steve that Tony only knew were non-negotiable. He’d lobbied for Steve to come with him as his bodyguard but had been overruled. 

 

Tony sighed as he scrolled through the text messages he and Steve had been sending one another over the last few days. Steve sent him the most adorably mundane texts about what he was doing, what the others in the tower were doing, what was going on in the city, as if Tony didn’t know already from the hundreds of other information sources relaying news to him constantly. But they were grounding, and it was nice. Tony sent replies that were remarkably sarcasm-free, worried that Steve might not catch his tone and think that he really did love being away from the tower - from home. 

 

Of course, Tony being Tony, he’d sent various nudes to Steve, though nothing too shocking. Steve had been courteous in his response but hadn’t sent Tony what he was really after, which was a photo of Steve’s magical mystery penis, though if he was honest with himself, he’d have been a little disappointed if he had. It would have sullied his image of Captain America if he’d actually gone ahead and sent him a dick-pic. 

 

In Malibu, a couple of his regular hook-ups contacted him to see if he wanted to ‘hang out’, and Tony surprised himself with just how much he didn’t want to. He politely declined and didn’t really think about it til he was on the plane again. He really _didn’t_ want to sleep with anyone else. He liked waking up next to Steve even if they weren't fucking. It felt right. Comfortable. Like a new pair of shoes which somehow felt like an old pair. Which was a kind of insulting analogy but it fitted. Steve was new and shiny and perfect, but he somehow felt familiar and comfortable. Tony felt homesick for the first time in his life. 

 

As if by some divine hand, Steve texted him right then. 

_\- I miss you! When you come back, can I take you on another date?_

Tony’s heart twisted in his chest and he ached to be home. Almost buzzed the pilot to turn the plane towards New York instead of San Francisco. But decided with a sigh that he’d get all of these meetings out of the way as soon as he could so he could go home to Steve and not have to worry about them. The thought that Steve might be proud of him for having worked hard didn’t even cross Tony’s mind. Not at all.

 

_\- You may certainly take me on a date. Though I draw the line at camping. I like you a lot but I don’t think I like anyone enough to camp._

 

_\- Don’t worry, it’s not camping. Where are you now?_

 

_\- Flying to San Francisco for a board meeting and to sign a million things. It’s so boring Steve! Save me!_

 

_\- You’ll be home soon enough and you can make me dinner again! Bruce just came in with a bunch of cacti and wants to know if you want one._

 

Cactuses? Why would Tony want a cactus? Why did Bruce even have cactuses? Cacti. 

 

_\- Sure, save me one, I’ll put it in the workshop to brighten up the place. Why does Bruce have a bunch of cactuses?_

 

_\- Some kind of experiment I guess. Maybe he’s going to make the Hulk have spikes? He’s gone to his lab. He misses you, he said you’re Science Bros and Mario needs Luigi? I don’t know what that means._

 

_\- Tell him that I’m Mario and he’s Luigi!_

 

Steve sent through a photo of himself holding the cactus, reflected in a bathroom mirror. Tony’s bathroom. He swallowed. They’d only had two _dates_ but he missed him so much. 

 

_\- I declare the cactuses name to be Bowser! And you my dear, are Princess Peach._

 

Tony smiled to himself imagining Steve’s confused face. He liked to pepper his conversations with little bits of pop culture sometimes purely to watch Steve try to keep up. It was delightful. 

 

_\- Clint says you’re talking about a computer game and said he’ll set it up so I can play it. Do you think I’d like it? I liked that one with the slidey paddles and the ball._

 

Tony had enjoyed watching Steve get to grips with Pong. He felt it was important for Steve to begin with the basics. But the thought of Steve playing Super Mario Bros? Too adorable for words.

 

_\- I think you would LOVE it, but I want to see you try it for the first time! Get him to show you Space Invaders instead._

 

Soon enough, Tony would have Steve set up playing Street Fighter with him and that would be the greatest day. 

 

The reverie was short lived, the jet touching down and Tony being driven off to listen to people in boring suits talk about boring things. He stayed alert enough and signed next to the little sticky arrow tabs and was let out eventually. He could have gotten right back on the plane but had an idea that stuck in his mind. And he’d document it all for Steve, too. 

 

 _\- I’m going to get you a present._ Tony texted Steve. 

 

 _\- You don’t have to get me presents Tony._ Steve replied, because of course he would. He was probably imagining Tony buying the Golden Gate Bridge and having it painted red, white and blue or something equally extreme. 

 

_\- I’m on the BART! Did they have that back in your day? It’s like a sky subway._

 

Tony sent him a photograph of himself sitting on the train. No one even looked at him, all too busy looking at their phones or their newspapers. It was almost 11 am, hardly rush hour, though Tony felt a little let down that not a single person appeared to have recognised him. 

 

_\- Where are you going? Are you on your own?_

 

_\- I said! I’m going to get you a present_

 

Tony sent him another photo once he reached Oakland, and Steve replied immediately.

 

_\- Tony! Why are you in Oakland? Where’s your driver? Shall I call him?_

 

_\- It’s fine! Don’t worry so much Apple Pie x_

 

Tony got off at the Oakland Coliseum to buy his gift - two Oakland A’s caps - one green with a white A on it, the other yellow and green. He had a hot dog seller take a picture of him wearing the yellow one in front of the stadium and sent it to Steve. “You look kinda like that Tony Stark guy.” The man said, and Tony smiled. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

He bought a hot dog and ate it on the BART back into the city, grinning when his phone chimed.

 

_\- You went all the way to Oakland to buy a hat?_

 

_\- It has an A on it! I bought the yellow one for me, yours is green and white. They didn’t have any red or blue ones. Actually, what is your favourite colour?_

 

_\- Tony!_

 

_\- What’s your favourite colour though?_

 

_\- Green._

 

Tony was kind of expecting Steve to be a little more touched by his non-money spending trip to a baseball stadium of all places, but also kind of liked Steve’s concern for his well-being, even if it was a little over the top since Steve had lived in deepest darkest Brooklyn until only a few months ago. 

 

_\- Yes, I barely made it out alive, there were gangs and murderers sneaking about on every street, I was mugged six times and shot at twice. But I managed to save the hats! And my hot dog._

 

Tony sent him a picture of the last bite of his hot dog. 

 

_\- Tony, that's not funny. You shouldn’t put your life at risk for anything, least of all me._

 

_\- Steve! You’re from Brooklyn! City of crime and murder! Oakland is Berkley hippies and lesbian coffee shops! Trust me, I’m hardly going to be putting my life at risk, I have the mini-suit with me anyway._

 

Tony had only recently worked out the details of his mini suit, which wasn’t really a suit at all, more the basics of a suit for emergencies. The Swiss Army Knife version. Just a palm repulsor and a makeshift visor that came out of a watch and a pair of reading glasses. If anyone ever did try anything on him, he could just blast them and run away. If he didn’t out-snark them first, of course. 

 

_\- It’s not the same if someone really wanted to hurt you. Are you back on the plane yet? When are you coming back?_

 

Tony frowned. Sure, he didn’t have super serum flowing through his veins but he was more than proficient in the art of taking names and kicking ass, suit or not. It was all very sweet, Steve fretting over him, but it was a little much. Tony was capable of taking care of himself, thank you very much, _Steve._

 

_\- I’m still on the BART. I have to go to Chicago and then I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll try to stay alive til then._

 

Tony pressed send and then immediately felt horrible. He suddenly thought of the people Steve had lost over the years, even before he’d done time as an icecube: Bucky falling, Dr Erskine dying, all those men he served with dead and buried long before he woke up. He felt even worse when Steve didn’t reply.

 

\--

 

Once Tony was back on the plane and on the way to Chicago, Tony’s phone chimed again, and he picked it up too fast, almost dropping it in his fourth (fifth?) glass of whisky and ice. One of the nice things about owning a private jet was that you could drink 20 year old malt whisky out of real cut crystal glasses, and get phone signal too. 

 

But it wasn’t Steve. It was Bruce. 

 

_\- Do you know where Steve is?_

 

Tony sat up suddenly, immediately sober. 

 

_\- No? What?_

 

_\- We were meant to work on serum stuff together today but he didn’t show up. Jarvis says he left just before 12._

 

_\- I think I upset him. Did you try to call?_

 

Tony reached for his backup phone to call Steve, but was met with endless ringing. Steve still hadn’t set up his voicemail. Tony texted him instead.

 

_\- Steve, are you ok? Bruce said you left the tower? I’m sorry about before. I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m worried now! I hope you’re alright. I’m sorry._

 

There was no response, and Tony paced up and down the small plane. He knocked on the door to the pilot’s cabin and asked him to take him straight back to New York. 

 

“Jarvis, bring up Steve’s old address and send it to- actually no, just bring it up. Don’t send it to anyone.” Tony texted Bruce again.

 

_\- I’m coming back to the city. Let me know if you hear anything from him._

 

_\- Will do._

 

Tony sat back and finished his drink in one long gulp, looking out the window at the endless fields below him as they flew far too slowly home.

 

\--

 

Once back in the city, Tony had Happy drive him to the Brooklyn address he had on file for Steve, ran up and knocked, yelled through the door, ran back into the street to yell up at the windows, but no one was there. Tony put on his suitcase-suit so he could fly up there to look in the windows himself, but it was empty, no sign of life whatsoever. He flew back down and ignored the people with their phones taking pictures, climbing awkwardly back into the car. 

 

“Jarvis, do you have any other addresses for Steve I can try? Maybe from before.... from before?”

Jarvis gave him two addresses, one of which was the SHIELD HQ, which he’d already tried. The other turned out to now be a park. And there was Steve, sitting on a grimy looking bench, hunched over what looked to be a sketchbook. Tony was still in the suit and it took a few minutes to get out of it, being in the confines of a car and all, but once done, he took a deep breath and got out, asked Happy to wait for them but to leave if Tony waved him away. 

 

Steve looked up as Tony approached and smiled wanly, closing his sketchbook and wrapping the elastic around it, but not moving otherwise. Tony sat down next to him.

 

“Are you alright, Steve?” Tony asked, Steve still looking down at his sketchbook, hunched over his knees. It was a reflex to reach out and touch Steve’s back, move to gently rub him.

“How come you’re back so early? What about your meetings?” He asked quietly. Tony shrugged. “Rescheduled. I missed my boyfriend.”

 

“You can’t. You can’t do that, Tony,” Steve said, turning to look at him, his eyes somehow extra blue and huge.

Tony held his hand up in surrender. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Steve. I wasn’t thinking, I shouldn’t have been flippant. But I’m a grown man, I have to... _do_ things.”

“You don’t have to be foolhardy. You don’t have to do stupid things on your own, without a driver or Happy or me, or the _team_.”

 

Tony sighed. “Yeah, Steve, I do. That’s who I am. I do stupid things all the time. I mean, I’m not about to try to fly a nuclear bomb into space or - oh wait, I did actually do that. Or make a tiny chemical reactor and implant it into myself. Nope, did that too.”

 

Steve looked away, like he felt a little less sure of himself once Tony had put things that way. 

 

“I’m sorry if I worried you, alright? I just wanted to get you a dumb gift. I thought you’d think it was cute! I don’t even like baseball! But I wanted the A like on your uniform.” Tony mumbled that last bit, feeling endlessly stupid about it now since it had caused all this mess.

 

“Why didn’t you just buy one at the airport?” Steve asked quietly, his body turned towards Tony but his face still turned away, watching his fingers fiddling with the elastic of his sketchbook. 

 

“I thought it would be cool? I don’t know, I never rode the BART before. I’ve never been to Oakland before. Honestly I had time to kill and figured you’d like it. You hate me spending money so I thought this would, I don’t know, impress you? The whole trip cost me like, forty bucks.” 

 

Steve looked up at him with a soft expression pushing it’s way onto his face, like maybe the thought really did count. Tony took it as a tiny victory of sorts. 

 

“Why didn’t you answer your phone anyway? You can’t just not answer your phone, Bruce was worried sick!” Tony tried not to think about just how much he sounded like his father saying that.

 

Steve looked sheepish all of a sudden. He patted his pockets. “Oh. Darn, I guess I left it in the tower,” he said, shrugging. 

 

“Are you kidding me?!”

 

Steve looked sorry then. _Good_ , thought Tony. Though he was a little relieved that Steve hadn’t purposely been ignoring him. 

 

“How did you find me then?” Steve asked, turned more now, somehow closer to Tony. “Without my phone. How did you know I’d be here?” 

 

“I had Jarvis pull up your addresses. This was where you lived before, right?”

 

“Yeah. They knocked it down I guess. I don’t know when. I didn’t realise til I got here. I guess it’s nice that they at least put a park in here, there was nothing green around when I was a kid. I just... wanted to see something familiar.”

 

Tony’s eyebrows knotted. He felt like the worst person. “I could buy it! And we can rebuild your old apartment!” He grimaced as soon as he said it. What a terrible idea.

 

But Steve laughed, and it was music to Tony’s ears, even if it was a little rueful. “No, it was practically a slum. It was falling down even when I was living there, I can’t imagine how bad it must have been when they finally knocked it down.”

 

Tony really couldn’t imagine. He’d been living in mansions his entire life and this was the first time he’d even been in Brooklyn in the day time. It was actually quite pretty in the daylight, in it’s way. 

 

“Do you still like me?” Tony asked, not really knowing how else to ask it. Steve frowned, and Tony felt his heart wrench before Steve replied, “Yes! Tony. Of course I do. I.. _like_ you a lot. I’m sorry if I overreacted. I didn’t really think about you being outside. I mean, when you’re being all Tony Stark or Iron Man... all those crowds. And I know you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, I just... I worry about something happening to you. I’m sorry, I realise it’s my issue more than it is yours. I’ll try not to be so... clingy.”

 

“I kind of like it,” Tony admitted. “Not the freaking out parts but it’s nice knowing you care.”

Steve looked over at him incredulously. “Of course I care, Tony.” They both looked away for a moment before Steve added, “I guess we’re both kind of idiots.” 

Tony nodded in agreement as if that was the end of it, standing and brushing down his suit, holding out a hand for Steve to stand, holding onto his hand once he’d done so.

 

“Will you show me around one day?” Tony asked on their short walk back to the car. “Yeah?” Steve asked, his hand warm and tight around Tony’s. “Yeah, I wanna see... what you grew up around. I know a lot’s probably changed,” 

“No, I’d love to. Tomorrow?” Steve asked with hope in his voice. “Ok,” Tony replied with a smile of his own. “I can think of nothing more I’d like to do.”

 

-

 

It was raining the next day, not heavy enough to put off their trip but enough that it was miserable and wet. But Tony persevered and kept his complaining down to a minimum, right up until Steve suggested taking the subway.

“Um, Steve, I’m pretty sure you know this already, but I’m rich. Like, really rich? If you want _we_ can drive and give Happy the day off? Or, or, a cab?” Tony could see in Steve face that his resolve was made. “But _Steve_...” 

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve said calmly, stepping into his space and cupping his face. “We’re taking the subway.” 

Tony rolled his eyes petulantly but returned Steve’s kiss anyway and came out of it grinning like an idiot. With kisses like that he’d do anything for Steve.

 

The subway was everything Tony had imagined it would be: loud, dirty (though not quite as filthy as he’d expected, to be fair), bewildering and honestly a little scary, though he didn’t let that on to Steve. He’d taken the odd NY taxi in the past, but the subway was a new experience, one which he was glad was over once they got out at Fulton Street. It was nothing like the BART.

 

As if Brooklyn knew Steve had returned home, the sun came out.

 

Steve had worked out a route for them to take, taking in places from his past long since demolished with the odd hipster coffee shop in the few that still remained. Steve spoke without much wistfulness, which Tony was surprised by. Even the much loved places of his youth that were long gone, he talked of with a matter of factness that seemed almost old fashioned. Stoic, Tony realised. 

 

Steve often mentioned Bucky in his stories from the past, and even if Tony couldn’t help the little bristle of jealousy that ran through him with the thought of someone else having gotten to know Steve so well before him (and never asking if they’d been more than just good friends for fear of what the answer might be), he didn’t begrudge Steve his past memories. He’d had a good childhood, albeit hampered by illness and a plucky spirit that just got him into trouble (something Tony could more than identify with), and Tony was glad Steve had had such a close friend to grow up with and such a real world to do it in. 

 

They went largely unnoticed, wearing their matching A’s hats and inconspicuous clothes, though Tony could feel people’s eyes on them when he brushed the back of his hand against Steve’s, even if no one was around. He wasn’t used to being out like this, with no Happy or Pepper or Rhodey, and no suit or car to disappear into. But Steve was a warm presence at his side, smiling at him and generally being sweet and wonderful, and all of it made Tony want to crawl into Steve’s arms at the same time as Steve impossibly curled up into his own. 

 

Tony had expected hot dogs or some kind of sweet old lady shack place like their first date for lunch, and was surprised into laughter when Steve took him to a sushi place. “This wasn’t here when you were a kid,” Tony accused. 

“True,” Steve conceded. “But the building was. It used to be the place my mom bought my shoes. I don’t really remember it to be honest, but I figured we’d had enough reminiscing for one day.”

 

Steve ate delicately and well, talking at length about the cultural things he’d learnt from his fellow Howling Commandos, which was when he truly became animated. The sushi wasn’t so good as what Tony was used to, but his company made up for any slight failings. And plus, what more could one expect from a shoe shop? The bill was laughably small, and Steve paid before Tony could even reach his wallet. “You can show me around MIT next time we’re near there and I’ll let you buy me lunch then,” Steve decided. “I’ll hold you to that. The cafeteria at MIT is so bad I don’t think even Thor could eat more than a couple of fries,” Tony replied.

 

After a brief sojourn around the park Steve had been in the day before, they headed back to the subway again. “Steve, really, we could just call Happy and he’ll be here in like, five minutes,” Tony wheedled even as they moved down the platform. “Steve?” 

They kept walking to the end where no one at this quiet hour noticed them before Steve grabbed Tony’s hand and pulled him into a little alcove hidden from the rest of the platform. “Stop complaining,” Steve said, crowding into him in the small space and grinning into a kiss.

“Stopping complaining!” Tony squeaked as Steve kissed him before working his lips down to mouth at the neck of his shirt. He pushed Tony against the wall and then suddenly hands were on Tony’s fly and Steve was crouching down, looking up at him. “Any more complaints?”

 

Tony gawped. He was lost for words, aware of both the proximity of Steve’s mouth to his cock and of the way anyone walking far enough down the platform would be able to see them. But then all such thought flitted out of his mind as Steve took Tony in his mouth and sucked him hard in a matter of moments. Captain America’s mouth on your dick will do that. 

 

“Shit, _Steve_!” Tony gasped when he really started to suck and move and Tony thanked the lord for whoever Steve had learned his technique from, even if it _was_ Bucky. “Steve! Steve! I’m going to! Stop! I don’t wanna,” But Steve held his hips and sucked him through it, the moans Tony couldn’t stop himself from making getting drowned out by the screech of a train somewhere down the tunnel. Licking his lips and then licking him clean after swallowing - and Tony certainly made a note of _that_ \- Steve stood and held Tony as he crumpled against the wall, tucking him back into his pants once he was soft enough and politely just pressing the heel of his hand against his own crotch. “Lemme,” Tony half heartedly said, reaching towards the bulge in Steve’s slacks. Steve laughed into his neck and kissed him once before dragging him out and into a waiting train.

 

“Steve, what the-” 

“Hmm?” Steve answered with a grin so devilishly innocent that Tony was lost for words. 

“You just,”

“Just what?” 

Tony gawped at him before blinking and shaking his head. “Where is the real Steve Rogers and what have you done with him? Are you an alien shapeshifter?” He leaned in to study Steve’s eyes and Steve just looked back looking for all the world like a naughty schoolboy. An extremely naughty one.

 

“Just wait til I get you home,” Tony promised, still shaken. Steve Rogers, blowing him. _Blowing him!_ And on a subway platform! 

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do to me?” Steve murmured, looking at Tony’s lips.

“Jesus Christ, Steve. Are you trying to kill me?”

Steve looked like he was going to say something but bit his lip at the same time as grinning, looking Tony up and down before sitting back and looking out the window. Tony studied the advertisements and tried to get his breath back.

 

Back in the tower, Tony tried to pull Steve into the shower with him, but Steve had plans to go to the gym instead, since he’d skipped out that morning and liked to get a few hours in every day if he could. And Tony had work too, he supposed, though none of it was what he wanted to be doing, which was finally getting his hands (and his mouth) on Steve’s dick. He said as much, and Steve promised come and get Tony in a few hours for dinner after which... he’d left a suggestive pause and Tony started getting hard again. “Get out before I do something that’ll make you lose respect for me,” he said, pushing him back out of the bathroom and locking the door, and if he jerked off in the shower afterwards there wasn’t a soul alive who could have judged him for it.

 

But just as Tony was towelling off his hair and picking out a shirt to wear in case Steve surprised him in the workshop (not too new and clean that a little engine grease would ruin it, not so old that it’d be unattractive), Steve stepped in wearing his uniform. “We’re up,” was all he said before ducking back out, and whatever vague plans they’d had were forgotten.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I figure Steve is older than 91? According to yahoo answers he's 92.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Whiskey Kisses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/510877) by [glowydean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowydean/pseuds/glowydean)




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